Ava
My hand slams my car door shut and I lock it, shutting the garage door and unlocking the house. I lock my door and kick off my shoes, running up the stairs. All the lights remain off and I run to my spare room, going into the closet. I slam the door shut and feel over the floor, ensuring nothing is disrupted. My mind has built with paranoia the entire time after my meeting with the lawyer.
I let out a sigh, but I'm not going to rest now. Once I gather my strength, I maneuver out of the room and walk to the laundry room. Once I retrieve my tools, my feet rush up the stairs and back to the room.
After I place the flashlight between my teeth, I begin to remove the boards that cover the floor. I grab the box and punch in the code. It opens and I grab my ring of keys from my pocket, opening the next box. The final box is unveiled and I type in the code once more, opening it and seeing the piece of jewelry that fucked up my life.
As I look at it, my body slumps onto the ground and I rest on the back of my legs. The weight of my heart feels heavy and I clench my jaw, holding something people are looking for. It's a scene out of a movie; holding onto a treasure so valuable.
The box is closed and I redo all the codes, placing it back into it's secret compartment. I board the floor back up, cleaning it up as it was before.
I make my way downstairs and put everything back in place, turning the lights on. My lips press together and I move to my room, taking a seat on my bed. The thump of my heart makes it feel like it will break through my diaphragm, ripping me apart. Wrapping my mind around the fact a necklace can do this to me has my body shaking. It's unbelievable.
My eyes flicker to the clock and I see it's nearly one in the morning, my lips releasing a sigh. It's complicated, what I'm feeling. There are no words I can put into how to describe how I'm feeling. What scares me right now, is how much I want to be held. Just because I had a taste of what it feels like to have someone care about me, makes me crave it.
"Fuck," I groan, making my way to my closet. I change out of my jeans and into sweatpants, grabbing my sneakers. The irrational decision I'm making right now is about to jeopardize everything I know. All my instincts are down the drain and I'm doing something spontaneous and incredibly stupid.
Once I'm in my car, I drive down the street and park. My eyes take in the front of the building and I walk over, someone opening the door as I walk up. The happy coincidence is nice considering I won't have to buzz up to the apartment I need.
I thank the man and walk up the stairs, swallowing the nerves forming in my body. All the feelings I've suppressed over the years are coming up and settling in my chest.
My fist knocks on the door and I hear Zeus bark, my lower lip taken between my teeth. For a second I forgot he had a dog, but perhaps it'll work in my favor in waking him up.
The lock is undone and I look up, Harry looking at me. He's shirtless and a pair of sweatpants are hung low on his hips.
"Nicks, it's late. You alright?" he asks, and I feel my lips quiver. Then his face falls and concern takes over, his hand reaching for my waist. He tugs me into him and my arms wrap around his neck, his head burying into my neck. The tears are swallowed back and I just hold onto him, almost as if I need it to hold myself together.
My hand wraps into his hair and he kicks the door shut, not loosening his grip. His hand holds my shoulder and his arms hold me to his body, my eyes squeezing shut.
"I needed a hug," I admit to him, his lips setting a kiss to my jaw. "I'm sorry."
"Nicks, you never have to apologize. Not to me," he tells me, my head lifting. I remove my hand from his hair and drag it down to his cheek, brushing my thumb over his scar. If only he knew I owed him an apology; a tremendous one at that.
"Can I stay here? I wanted to be with someone tonight," I whisper to him, his green eyes looking into mine. There's a soft gaze to them; care for me evident.
"Of course. I can sleep on the couch if that would make you comfortable," he says, and I shake my head.
"I want to be by you," I tell him, feeling so vulnerable it almost pains me. This is so foreign to me, but right now I'm throwing caution to the wind.
He nods and lets me go as he locks the front door back up while I walk towards his room, Harry joining me moments after. He hands me a glass of water and I thank him, removing my shoes.
I take a drink of the water and sit on the bed, Harry moving to the right side of the bed. He pulls the covers back and I get in, resting my head on the pillow. He follows and I can tell he has no idea what to do; I don't either. My eyes close and I bite my lower lip, glancing over at him.
"I owe you an explanation," I whisper, and he turns onto his side.
"You owe me nothing, Nicks," he tells me, my body turning to face him. His green eyes peer into mine and I appreciate the fact he doesn't pry, but he deserve to know why I left at least.
I take a deep breath. "My father...he was way too invested in his job," I begin, and he watches me closely.
"He was a bounty hunter. And it was so dangerous. My mom tried to get him to stop, but he loved the thrill of it. It caused him to make poor decisions and he failed to think of any repercussions," I explain, his eyes attentive on me. I can only imagine the questions he has, and I'm going to do my best to skirt around the fact his father was the one who ordered my father to be killed.
"When he died, he put in his will that he wanted all of his belongings to be in my mother's name. There was something they couldn't find and that's why I had to leave. My mom can't handle anything revolving around my father without facing trauma," I elaborate, taking a moment to collect my thoughts.
"It was me who had to talk to the lawyers and it reopened so many wounds I forced deep into my past. There are so many things that I had to relive the past few days that I just couldn't be alone. I've never felt this way. Never wanted to feel this way, but it's happening over again and I'm on the verge of crashing and I hate it," I rush, Harry pushing his arm beneath me.
He takes me into his arms and holds me, his hand pressing to the back of my head. My face nuzzles into his neck to accept the gesture, his lips pressing to my cheek.
"I'm sorry," he whispers, my hand moving along his chest. The bare skin is smooth to the touch and I glance down, beginning to trace over the lines of his tattoos.
"It's alright. It's just a lot to get over. It took me a long time and now reliving it just sucks," I explain, his head nodding.
"I get this way too from time to time. I know how you feel," he tells me, my eyes closing.
I move my hand over his abdomen so I can wrap my arm around his waist, lightly moving my fingertips over his skin. His hand migrates to do the same, feeling over my skin. My tongue swipes along my lower lip, then clench my jaw.
When I had been at his house the last time, the moment was intense. We were taking a step forward and it felt so perfect. He's the only person I'd ever been this attracted to.
"Did I wake you up?" I wonder, trying to distract my thoughts.
"Surprisingly, no. I couldn't sleep so I was reading on the couch," he explains, and I nod my head. It alleviates some of the concern I had about coming over so late.
"I appreciate it a lot Harry," I tell him, and his fingers keep brushing my skin.
"Anytime," he reminds me, his lips brushing along my forehead as he talks. I bite my lower lip, closing my eyes as he holds me tightly.
"Are you going to that Christmas party?" he asks, and I smile.
"Of course. Marnie is an amazing cook," I tell him. "That's the Chief's wife."
"Then I'm definitely going," he says, making me laugh.
I wonder how the event will go if this man will be there and I can't be around him all that much. With everything we've done, it's the attraction that pulls us in.
"They're pretty fun. She invites anyone and everyone she knows, so it's not strictly the police. That'd be quite the party," I say, his lips stifling an amused noise.
"I suppose so. No law enforcement for a night; live action right there," he says, making me laugh. A soft silence begins between us and his fingers continue to trace over my spine, easily moving past the shirt and sweatshirt on my body.
"Can I tell you something?" he says, his hand splaying out the entirety of my back. I hum in response and lift my head to look up at him.
"When I first met you, it crossed my mind to ask you out," he starts, his green eyes looking into my gray ones. In all honesty, I'm not as surprised as I should be. Given every circumstance I've spent alone with him, he's given me more than enough signs he's interested.
"Oh yeah?" I ask, smiling at him. He nods and I bring my hand up to his chest, tracing the tattoos again.
"And I didn't for two reasons," he starts, my eyes watching in intrigue. "One, you're basically my boss," he starts, causing me to let out a soft laugh. "And two, there was a ninety-nine percent chance you'd say no."
I ponder the thought and consider all that he's said. In all honesty, going on dates really has never been my thing. A few, here and there, but nothing ever came from them. The men would ask really invasive questions, right off the bat, and it only gave me warning signs. So I just stuck to what I knew and went out to get drinks, spend the night, and leave before they woke up. Sometimes, I'd leave right after they fell asleep.
If Harry did ask me out, yes there is a very great chance that I would have said no. That's speaking from the job standpoint. Although, I remember being quite interested in him the moment I saw the waitress checking him out when we went to lunch the first time. That's where I put work aside and paid more attention to his looks than his work ethics.
And look at where that got us.
"That may have been true," I whisper to him, his lips pulling up into a smile.
"May have?" he grins, his fingers moving so the tips brush against the small of my back. I bite my lower lip, taking a moment to muster the courage to admit not only to him, but to myself what I'm feeling.
"I believe you've fallen into the one percent since then," I reveal, taking a moment to figure out how I feel. I don't feel regretful, but rather relieved to have gotten it off my chest.
"Yeah?" he asks, almost breathless. I trail my hand over his sternum and up to his chin, my thumb brushing over the soft skin.
"Yeah," I breathe out, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips. His arms tighten around me and he pulls me closer, continuing to move his lips along with mine.
The feeling of his hands on my body sparks my mind into a frenzy and I pull away, biting my lower lip. His lips begin to pepper soft kisses upon my face and I keep my eyes closed, his hand moving up to my cheek.
"Am I able to ask you a question? It's...probably more personal, but if you hear it and don't want to answer, I completely understand," he says, my eyes locking on his. I'm unsure what it is he could possibly ask. There are so many questions I'm sure that circulate his mind on a daily basis, but he never tries. It's alright, right now, since he's prefaced it in such a way.
"Okay," I start, his thumb brushing along my cheekbone.
"When we were here last, you didn't want to take your bra off. I don't want to push it, it doesn't bother me, I just don't want to make it uncomfortable in the future, but I'm just curious," he gushes, my eyes flickering between both of his.
It means a lot that he doesn't mind; there have been quite a few men who didn't like it. Those men were thrown to the curb and I left before anything could even happen. There is no underlying major reason, but it's simple yet complex at the same time.
"It's not some sob story, or really a story at all, in all fairness," I start, his focus straight at me. "It's simple, really. I find it so intimate when it's skin on skin. While engaging in sex, an intimate act to most, I never looked at it that way. It was always just for pleasure and feeling good, never building a connection. In my mind, I think once I take it off, it's intimate."
Harry kisses my forehead once I stop talking, his hand keeping a close hold to my cheek.
"That's kind of cool, honestly," he whispers, making me smile. It wasn't all that cool; the logic lost to most.
"Cool?" I grin, his dimples plastered to his cheeks.
"Cool," he repeats, kissing my nose.